It was almost as big as any room in the house and offered stunning views of the river and the mountains, perfectly framed by the porch’s original gingerbread trim. Also, at this time of year, they were able to leave the French doors open, so that their guests could simply wander into the dining room when dinner was to be served. It was Friday evening, a little past 6:00, and the weekend guests at Lenore’s Folly, with the exception of Rosamund Whiting and Meg Pierce, had gathered on the veranda and were mingling in a rather half-hearted fashion. Dame Caroline and Phoebe sat on one of the wicker sofas and chatted about mutual acquaintances. Sally Crandall had commandeered a nearby chair and was feigning interest in their conversation, all the while watching her son and husband intently. Connor was standing by the railing, holding a sparkling water and shaking his head violently in response to whatever his father had just asked him. On another sofa, Vicki watched this same scene out of the corner of her eye, while listening to a story Sir Tony was telling her and Teddy about John Gielgud, Judith Anderson, and a drunken sailor from Yorkshire.
